


The Matter Of Mud, Falling, And Platypi

by Bea_The_Cat123



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley POV, Crowley’s Fall, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heaven vs. Hell, I’m so sorry Crowley, M/M, Mud, Pre-canon sorta, Rain, falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bea_The_Cat123/pseuds/Bea_The_Cat123
Summary: Crowley has asked a lot of questions over the years, but now he tries to answer one of Aziraphale’s with a personal anecdote.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	The Matter Of Mud, Falling, And Platypi

“Why do you like mud?” 

Crowley paused mid-sip of his Starbucks to look at Aziraphale, who was sitting across from him. Crowley took a noisy slurp of his pink drink and tried to process exactly what he had just been asked.

There was a lot of answers to that question, and the one that came to mind first was the worst answer. 

They were in public, eating, content and happy. Crowley shouldn’t crush that bliss. But...none of the other answers really felt right. But Aziraphale didn’t want to hear that long, disgusting, horrible story. Any angel would be disturbed by it, and Aziraphale would definitely be horrified. 

And yet. 

Crowley chewed on his straw then gave another obnoxious slurp. This was too much to think about right now. He needed more time, for once. 

“I...what?” Crowley asked dumbly. 

“Why do you like mud? I’m just curious...been reminiscing on the past a bit. Remember? In [3921 BCE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507706)?” Aziraphale smiled. “You were  _ adorable-“ _

_ “Ssssshut up!” _ Crowley snapped, lunging at Aziraphale across the table. The angel pulled back, and Crowley, after realizing his anger got the better of him, sat himself back down. “I...I’m sorry. I just like it. End. Boom.” 

Aziraphale picked up his tea and sipped it quietly. Crowley wrung his hands together and let out a sigh. 

“I forgive you, Crowley.”

“Thanks.”

Crowley and Aziraphale sat in the back room of the bookshop. Aziraphale was typing away at his computer (he put in the codes manually) and Crowley scrolled mindlessly through a reddit page. He was using it as white-noise to throw the thoughts around in his head. 

_ You wanna tell him, don’t you? _

Crowley swallowed. He did. He wanted to talk about his past for once, to get it into the open for the space it took to tell. He’d never really done it before. Alluded quietly to it maybe, but never retold the whole event. It sat in rot in Crowley’s mind, never being able to leave. Crowley never told the other demons. They didn’t even know he  _ liked _ mud.

If they did, he’d be done for.

_ He’s your best friend, your love, your everything. He deserves to know, right? _

He did. Crowley knew, as he paused his scrolling, it would make a lot of things...make sense. Aziraphale would get the full picture of things for once. And who deserved the full picture more than Aziraphale?

_ He’d be horrified. _

Crowley bit his cheek. Aziraphale had seen a lot of things. He...he couldn’t have nightmares about this. He didn’t even sleep!

_ Maybe the nightmares would go away. _

_ Maybe he’ll...understand me. He always does... _

_ He couldn’t understand. _

Crowley cursed to himself. Who would be able to understand? Surely not the other demons. Aziraphale made more sense to Crowley than any Fallen Angel in existence. 

_ Would he even care? _

Crowley gave a loud sigh and dropped his phone into his lap. 

“Dear?” Aziraphale asked from his typing. He turned to see Crowley’s beaten expression. “What’s wrong?” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow. “Come again?”

_ ”I lied,” _ Crowley said. He got up and stretched his back. “At Starbucks.” 

“You lied at  _ Starbucks?” _ Aziraphale got up too. “Crowley, I know that traitorous actions are what you’re about, but not paying the check-“

“No!” Crowley face-palmed himself. “I...no. The other thing. The mud question thing.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Uhh...I have an idea. Sit down, I’ll be right back.” Crowley started for the wine cart, but Aziraphale turned him around. 

“I’m in the middle of my tax returns-“

Crowley gave a snap, and the tax returns were suddenly completed. He strutted over to inspect the alcohol to choose from, and grabbed the strongest whiskey they had. Aziraphale sat down slowly, and Crowley swung the brandy around before throwing it to the angel. 

Aziraphale caught and inspected the brandy. He looked up at Crowley, who slammed two shot glasses on the wooden desk. He gave another loud sigh and slid up his sunglasses.

“What...what’s this?”

“You really want to know?” Crowley sat down on the couch and tried to calm his nerves. 6000 years of untold truth was about to spill all over the floor. 

“Crowley...what’s this have to do with you liking m-“

“You asked, ye shall receive. Now, how much I can remember will be debatable.” The demon locked eyes with the now somewhat fretful angel. “And then there’s the shit I  _ don’t _ want to tell you.” 

“Dear, what has you so...tense?” Aziraphale placed the bottle on the table. “If this is too hard to get through, you don’t have to.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and stared at the bottle of alcohol. This  _ was _ going to be hard to get through. This was going to be a lot of messy, horrible truths. Crowley knew, somewhere, that he was about to crack Aziraphale’s faith in The Divine. 

But Aziraphale was wiser than that. He was compassionate, beautiful...the most perfect thing the Lord ever created. If anyone was going to take the weight just slightly off of Crowley’s chest, it was him.

“Once you pour that brandy, we’ll give a lil’ toast, and I’ll start.” Aziraphale placed his hands on his knees and gave the demon a very pensive look. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“A story about why you like mud requires  _ whiskey?” _

“Probably pot too,” Crowley sniffed. “But we both stopped smoking in ‘91, didn’t we?” Aziraphale looked rather appalled, and he tentatively opened and closed his mouth. He reached for the whiskey and placed his fingers around the cap...but did not unwind. 

“Do...do  _ I _ want to hear this?” Aziraphale asked, his voice dropping in volume. Crowley felt his chest heave in the thickness of his stress. He was about to ask Aziraphale of...well, ‘a lot’ was an understatement.

“When you pour the shots, we can start,” Crowley confirmed. In his classic fashion, he threw in his best weapon as the Tempter. “Y’don’t have to.”

The silence hung in the bookshop. Crowley gave a slight sway. Maybe from nerves, maybe from choices, maybe from his snakey tendencies. Could be anything. He could see the gears turning behind Aziraphale’s eyes as he slowly unwinded the cap. The two held eye-contact as Aziraphale poured the first two shots.

It was only 6:00 PM, and time was relative when you were there before it was invented. 

“So, what are you going to toast to?” Aziraphale asked as he raised his glass. Crowley gave a dark smile. 

“To the nightmares.” He downed the drink before Aziraphale could comment. A hard swallow later, Aziraphale put a hand to his chest, frankly unaware (and extremely aware) of what he was about to get into. “Now, how ‘bout we start at the beginning? I hear it’s a... _ very good place to start.” _

Crowley was nowhere near a spring-chicken. In fact, he was (generally) an older demon compared to a fair amount of his Fallen colleagues, who ranged from 21 to 4000 years old. But really, all of his usual lot were old by Earth standards. They were the bred-through, classic monstrosities of the world; the Fallen Angels.

Would’ve made for a cool band name, if any of them wanted to learn to play an instrument other than the kazoo.

Crowley hadn’t so much as ‘sauntered vaguely downwards’ as much as he had ‘started sauntering then tripped on his robe and fell down the rest of the staircase.’ But that didn’t carry the same class, and Crowley definitely wasn’t going to say ‘he got booted for having an emo phase.’ 

“It had started really, really simply. I had been...I don’t know, going to do some cosmic work or whatever-“

“Hold on, hold on,” Aziraphale held up a hand. “‘Cosmic work?’” Crowley’s eyes widened. 

“I never told you?” 

“...No?”

“Oh, well, I was designing some parts of the Outer Sphere with y’know...colors, explosions. I was going to set up this one nebula-“

“Which one?” Aziraphale placed his glass down and got up to one of his bookshelves. He pulled out a smaller black book and brought it back with him. He pulled out his reader glasses. “Give me the name and I’ll look it up.” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck and took a drink, trying to hide his blush. He took off his sunglasses and folded them in and out. 

“‘Ts nothing, nothing fancy,” he said. “Some seraphim made...uh...” the demon snapped his fingers, unable to recall. “It was a big one. Anyways, I’m able to talk to the Almighty, and I had noticed some weird things happening with the animal department, so I ask ‘why do platypi lay eggs?’”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “They do?”

“I know, right? Stupidest thing, asking for some consistency here! I ask and She just goes-“ Crowley tried to pitch his voice to sound both more feminine and deeper “‘-because I said so.’” Aziraphale gave a face Crowley knew all too well.

“You can’t judge the Almighty, Crowley.”

“Ohhh, yeah, go say that to lil’ old me!” Crowley started to pour another drink. “You would’ve  _ hated _ past me. All I did was judge the Almighty.” Drink, slam. “I wasn’t really satisfied with that answer, so I went and asked...uhhh, was it Dagon? And she didn’t have an answer either. So-“

“Wait.”

“What now?”

“God cast you out of Heaven because you asked why platypi laid eggs?” Crowley drew back.

“No! Well. No. No!” The demon waved his hands dismissively. “I said we start at the beginning.”

“But that was your first question?”

“Look, shh. It gets worse,” Crowley said. Aziraphale sipped from his glass and sat back in his seat. “I continue putting up stars, setting up explosions-“ Crowley paused to give a small burp. “There’s blueprints to this, see? I designed some of the blue prints, then I go lay the explosions, we used these glittery bomb stuff-“

“What’s a glitter bomb?” Aziraphale piped up. Crowley had to re-align his train of thought.

“It’s a bomb but you put glitter in it.”

“No, really?” Aziraphale gave a small smile, and Crowley felt his cheeks heat up even more.

“Oi, shut it,” Crowley said. “It’s not important. The important thing is, as I’m doing this, I start to have a lot of time to like...think.”

“And ask questions?” Aziraphale asked.

“And ask questions.” 

Crowley had asked several questions to the Almighty. Sometimes directly, sometimes passively. 

_ “Why do some of the animals not mate for their short lives, but some do?” _

_ “Why would God talk to creatures if they can’t understand Her?”  _

_ “Are you still there?” _

_ “Why are creatures lives so short if you can make immortal beings?” _

_ “Why is Mars red?” _

_ “Why did you make some angels more powerful than the others if you Love us all the same?” _

_ “If you are everything, and hate is something, then why can’t you hate?” _

_ “Why do things fall off my desk?” _

_ “If you’re everything, why can’t I hear you?” _

_ “What is my place in this whole thing?” _

_ “Where are you?!” _

_ “ARE YOU EVEN THERE?!” _

“God left all my text messages  _ unread,” _ Crowley explained, tapping his glass on the table for emphasis. Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion. “A text is like an email, Angel.”

“Oh.”

“So what’s one to do but tooooo...” Crowley traced the rim of the glass. “...Go to someone with the answers?” Aziraphale went through several of his thinking faces before the aspect hit him.

“...Lucifer?” The angel went white...er as Crowley gave a toothy grin. 

“I actually had met him before this whole thing,” Crowley said. “I liked explosions, he like riots, we got along great.” A painful memory clouded Crowley’s vision, and he sank back into the chair, the sting of betrayal in his throat. “At least...I thought so.”

“You can’t ever trust a demon,” Aziraphale started, then caught himself at Crowley’s hurt expression. “I...I mean...not  _ that _ demon.”

“He always seemed to have a good answer,” Crowley said. “And if not, he was down to complain. He complimented my charts one time.” The demon’s eyes landed on the black book still sitting on the table. “...Messier 42, is what they’re calling it now.” Aziraphale looked at the black book, opened it slowly, and flipped through the pages. Once he got to the page, he let out a small gasp. 

“It’s...It’s beautiful-“

“Shut up,” Crowley cut him off, his voice sharp. He poured himself another drink. It overflowed the glass and split onto the table. He flicked out his forked tongue and got the brandy on the sides before downing the whole shot in one swallow. 

“Now. Back to Lucifer.”

Crowley’s tattoo was simply his name...because symbols and names were synonymous when it came to marks on one’s body. And since the Fall didn’t discorporate him, the tattoo remained. He had gotten it as an angel because he (and his demon...friends? Comrades? Coworkers?) thought it was cool. And it was, in the human metal form, where they tattooed them on each other with supplies stolen from the Earth department. 

“The look on Archangel Gabriel’s face...oh my Satan, he was  _ pissed the fuck off.” _ Crowley smiled as Aziraphale gave a little grin. “Ya see? It’s fun to piss him off.”

“He deserved...whatever you did...breathe fire?”

_ ”Hellfire!”  _ Aziraphale chuckled.

“How could I forget?” The two shared a laugh, and Aziraphale lifted his glass. “To Gabriel.”

“The biggest asshole there is,” Crowley reached over and clinked his glass with Aziraphale’s. “Wouldn’t it be fun to shove him into something? Plenty of pits full of unholy messes here.” Aziraphale’s smile melted. 

“I...couldn’t,” Aziraphale finished off his drink. “Gabriel is...”

“He’s wretched, Angel,” Crowley leaned onto the table. “Fuckin’ wretched. If he as much  _ looks _ at you, I’ll-“

_ “You’ll get to safety as fast as you can,” _ Aziraphale said clearly. The two met eyes, and Crowley felt a churning of his stomach as the angel’s sea-glass eyes bore into his very core.  _ ”Please.” _

Crowley finished his shot once he finally tore his eyes away in shame. “Will do.”

The Great Battle had been one of the scariest moments of Crowley’s existence. (That list includes in no particular order Falling, the end of the world, the bookshop burning, the Bubonic Plague, and cockroaches). Crowley had been geared up to go and talk to the Almighty Herself. Lucifer had been at the front with his Six (Soon To Be) Princes Of Hell, and a whole army of occult forces behind him. Crowley...before the battle, at least, had been ready to give God a piece of his mind. He had been completely drained from Her lack of Presence. (Deep down, he wanted to bust open the Pearly Gates first, just to see God and confirm She actually existed). Crowley had seen an angry and ecstatic angel, dressed in gold with white wings, charge forth into battle, and suddenly all thoughts of charts and departments were gone. Heaven had become what Crowley had helped create, the architecture disappearing into the Outer Sphere as God’s greatest forces exacted their anger out on the peaceful atmosphere.

That’s when (literally) all Heaven broke loose, and Crowley had tried to bolt to the farthest reaches of the universe. 

“Where were you?” Crowley and Aziraphale were now sitting across from each other on the couch, the warm dim light of the lamps illuminating the back room. Aziraphale downed another shot before answering the question.

“Well...let’s see. I had been called to the front lines because I had been created to fight...” The angel tapped his chin. “So I must’ve been in the middle of it. I don’t know...I don’t like to...” He waved a dismissive hand. “Think about it.” Crowley gave a nod. Aziraphale rubbed his thigh. “A demon got a rather nasty hit on my leg, that’s the clearest memory for me.”

“Oh...” Crowley shuddered, taking another sip. “I’m...I’m sorry about your leg.”

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do it.” The color drained from Aziraphale’s eyes as he poured another glass and brought it to his lips. Crowley shrank as the anxiety nipped at him like cold gusts of wind. “...Did you?” 

Crowley’s eyebrows narrowed. He never remembered stabbing anyone, he hadn’t been given a weapon. He hadn’t really even wanted to fight. He had been dragged into the battle by the wings, by...someone. He had been clawed or sliced, and golden blood had oozed onto his black robes. He had looked on in horror at the carnage dripping into Oblivion. 

It had taken a long while, after the whole shebang, for him to realize the angel that had flown in to parry the demon about to strike him for deserting had been the same angel he met on the Wall Of Eden. 

“I never,  _ ever _ saw you,” Crowley said, trying to sound the most assured he could. “I wasn’t even given a weapon.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale looked down into his drink, and gave a regretful scoff. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“No! No no no, it’s ok,” Crowley leaned over and patted the angel’s shoulders. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I take no offense.” 

Aziraphale looked down, before taking one of Crowley’s hands and holding it quietly. His soft skin rubbed the demon’s hand. 

“You may continue,” Aziraphale shuddered, bringing Crowley’s hand to his thigh. “Continue the story.”

Crowley sat beside Aziraphale for a couple silent minutes before he ditched his glass and started drinking the brandy right from the bottle. Aziraphale gave a giggle, which sang in the demon’s ears. 

“I...anyways. Battle? Battle. I wasssstuckk, hold on-“ Crowley held up a finger as he gave another, louder burp. “Oh, this is hitting me hard. Anyways. I was fighting this one angel, I don’t remember, when suddenly everything started like...swirling around!” Crowley mimicked the motion with his finger. “Like a whirlpool, or like...weird water closet something. Everything stopped, and at the center, there’s the Big Guy himself, down he goes!” Crowley then re-enacted a fizzling explosion, and then a whistle showing the demon falling down...down...down. “Then everyone realizes ‘oh hey! Let’s shoot them down there!’ And God said ‘what a great idea!’ Then BOOM!!” Aziraphale flinched as Crowley drew his hands apart. “All of us!” He clapped his hands together. “Down the heavenly drain into the sewer! Bye-bye!” Aziraphale crinkled his nose. 

“That’s an...apt analogy.”

“It’s what it sure felt like,” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Wheee, but not, we’re all on fire,” the demon took another swig from the bottle. “Want some?”

“I’ve...” Aziraphale put a hand to his chest. “I’ve lost my appetite.” Crowley gave a smile. 

“More for me,” he shook the drink. “It gets worse.”

“Goody.”

Crowley had been hit with such a bright light he couldn’t exactly remember the first act of Falling. Angels were made out of light first. He had been hit and drowned in it, and it took him a fair moment to find out that he was, in fact, responding to a force. 

“So I was Falling.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, then looked down slowly. 

“Finally realized I was on fire and melting.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened.

_ ”Melting?” _

Crowley gave an uncomfortable swallow at the truth of the matter. 

“Yeah,” he said, peeling up his shirt to reveal the scars on his side, where tens of purple eyes used to be. “You ‘member these, right? They’re from the Fall.” Crowley knew Aziraphale had seen them before; the demon had worn many a crop-top in his day. But the sinking sickness of Aziraphale’s aura made him shudder. “I...don’t worry. I never really used them.” He put back his shirt, and took another drink. “It was from Earth’s atmosphere anyways. Ya gotta make that so the land and water can exist, right? Right. So the line between Heaven and Hell had this whole ‘ground’ thing in the middle so I eventually crashed through that-“

_ ”Through?” _ Aziraphale gasped. “You...you didn’t stop?”

“Hell...Hell’s beloooow, right?” Crowley stomped his foot on the ground. “Still some shit to get through. Then there was this pocket, like...empty space, then...” Crowley gestured to the air. “Splat.”

It had been more of a splash, actually. Aziraphale was frozen, his eyes glistening in the rapt fear he felt. Crowley could taste it under the burn of the brandy. He tentatively placed a hand on the demon’s shoulder, who tensed at the touch, before feeling his eyes sting as memories flooded back to him, like the bitter backwash of a hangover he’d eventually have. 

“Where did you land?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley could feel the words catch in his throat, and he desperately wanted to cough them up. 

Could Aziraphale sense that?

“It...it was a tar pit, actually,” Crowley felt his eyes water as the stinging ceased for a split second. He looked at Aziraphale, who looked utterly broken. “Boiling.” The angel brought his hand to his mouth. A horrible smile split on Crowley’s face, and a tear got caught in the crinkles of his eyes. “So. You know. Fun times.” 

It hadn’t been fun at all. 

When Crowley had mustered enough energy to pull himself to the surface, he couldn’t even of screamed from his throat being glued shut. His skin had ripped off at this point as he had desperately tried to get his limbs free. His body had felt as if it had been melded together, himself melting into the burning pitch. His wings had been clearly broken, and yet he had tried to fly out, sharp stings of grinding bones and burning feathers had clouded his better judgement. He had lost his balance and plunged back in at that point, and tried to find the bottom of the pit, but his hands had just kept sinking and sinking. When he had finally pulled them out, nothing but bones and black blood remained. 

His eyes had been purple in Heaven, but the gold of his halo had drained into them, leaving nothing but yellow and blazing fire in them. Once he had finally managed to see his surroundings; the bubbling tar and the empty, pitch black cavern, he had wailed. 

_ “I ONLY ASKED QUESTIONS!!” _

Crowley had stayed there for a long time, drowning in his guilt and shame and hopelessness, unable to move. His body was practically gone; it had all oozed away into the pit, when only the core of his true self remained.

Except it wasn’t his true self. It was a pitch black monster, with claws and fangs and eyes filled with a sickening, fiery rage. 

“You could say it was a...sticky situation,” Crowley said, drinking the rest of the bottle as another tear rolled down his face. “You know?”

Aziraphale was frozen, his aura icy and shocked, and a small whimper left the angel as he motioned for Crowley to come to him. 

Crowley was exhausted, his throat ached from things still left unsaid. He tucked himself into Aziraphale’s chest, where he let out a sob. 

When he had finally got the energy to move to shore, his body rebuilt itself, and he had slithered hopelessly through the tar, until he dragged himself to the shore of volcanic rock, sharp and brittle. It had dug into his skin and scales and whatever had been left of his wings, and he eventually got out and had laid miserably on the ground. 

“I was there for an eternity, Angel,” Crowley cried. “A fuckin’ eternity.” His hands pulled at Aziraphale’s shirt as another sob burned his throat. Aziraphale could only rub his back, his fingers tracing where Crowley’s black wings were. 

“...They were stained,” Aziraphale’s voice was fragile. “Your wings.” Crowley’s grip tightened around Aziraphale as his back ached from the echoes of the past. The angel let out a shaky breath. “Did...did anyone come for you?”

Crowley coughed as a reflex of drowning filled his mind, and he moved to rest his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“...No.” Crowley started to babble in the old language of the ethereal. “I slithered to the congregation where Lucifer picked me out and sent me up.” The demon gave a weak smile. “I was so sick of it already...And the rest is history.” 

Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s shoulders and looked him right in his wet eyes. The angel’s soft hands slowly wiped a tear from Crowley’s face. He knew he looked pitiful, ashen tears on tar hardened scales that appeared when he was distressed. Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley’s copper hair, as if he was preening him for more pitch that got caught in it. 

“I...” Aziraphale’s voice hooked on his speech. “I...I am  _ so, so sorry.” _

Crowley’s usual response of ‘shut up’ or ‘don’t say that’ ceased him completely, and he burrowed his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You never deserved any of this...oh, my dear boy...” 

Crowley could only cling to Aziraphale and whimper in response. 

The two held each other in the dim bookshop, Crowley’s mind swimming from the alcohol. He felt as if his very core rippled like waves of water as his ashen tears dripped onto Aziraphale’s clothes. Aziraphale rocked him slowly, his lips pressed to the top of them demon’s head. 

“I...I never want to go back,” Crowley muttered. Aziraphale’s grip tightened on him. 

“You won’t. I promise you,” the angel took Crowley’s face in his hands and wiped the drying ash off. A scale popped off of Crowley’s cheek. Aziraphale gave Crowley a kiss on his forehead. “I would pull you out in a heartbeat.”

Crowley, overcome with a bursting, burning sensation in his chest, the knots there loosening, shuddered into another sob as his fears melted and he wrapped himself around Aziraphale. The angel rubbed circles on his back as he let out another pitiful cry. 

“My poor boy...” Aziraphale placed a soft kiss on Crowley’s head. Crowley could hear his golden heart beat...and matched his breathing to calm his nerves. The burning and ripping soon melted away, slipping back into the floorboards...back to Hell. Crowley gave another squeeze to the angel to make sure he didn’t leave too. Aziraphale rubbed the back of Crowley’s neck as the demon sat back up slowly. Aziraphale wrapped his arm around Crowley’s thin waist, and he let out a sigh. 

“I...” Crowley gave a sniff. His head spun in its drowsy haze. “I’m sorry. I lost myself there a bit.” 

“No need to apologize,” Aziraphale said sweetly. “It must’ve been horrible.” A twinge of dread and anxiety picked at the air as Aziraphale seemed to search for better words. “I mean...I...”

The air became more crisp, and Crowley gave a shiver. 

_ There’s no way he could know. _

“It was never that simple,” Aziraphale looked Crowley directly in the eyes, his mouth twitching in a sympathetic smile. “That you just... _ liked _ mud.” 

Crowley wiped his face, his cheeks wet and hot. “Nnnnah. It. It was a shock, after...all that.” The demon turned away, and gave a shaky sigh to stop another hiccough. “I...I...” He searches for his words. Aziraphale didn’t even like mud, how would he understand? “It was just...real nice. It was cool and wet but not sticky...and that day had been faaaaar too hot,” Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “I just...liked how it felt.” He rubbed his arms, a cool, calm feeling sinking into him. “The dirt was so soft and weird, and I just...I just realized how... _ lucky _ I was to have gotten there first.” His eyes flicked back to the angel. “How long had you been spying on me?” Aziraphale blushed and he gave a guilty smile.

“The whole time.” 

Crowley, feeling loose and completely deflated in energy, couldn’t help but smile. 

“Really.”

“I...had never seen you so... _ happy... _ mind you this was even before alcohol cultivation,” Aziraphale gestured to the empty bottle sitting at Crowley’s side. “T’ be honest, I didn’t know demons could laugh like that.” 

Crowley’s smile faded slightly, and he leaned a little more into Aziraphale’s side. The harrowing echo of demonic laughter, cold and dry, filled his ears. He shook his head.

“I, for one,” Aziraphale paused to place a hand on his chest.  _ ”Wasn’t _ lying at Starbucks. You were very adorable.” The angel gave a tap to Crowley’s nose, and he flicked his forked tongue in response. 

“Ssssame goes for you,” Crowley replied. “Adorable-y flabbergabsjhfted.” Aziraphale let out a little giggle. 

“Can you blame me? My hereditary enemy jumps out of a mud pit and  _ hugs me?” _ The angel narrowed his eyes playfully. “It took a frivolous miracle to get that stain out.” Crowley felt his heart give a little jump in a weird mix of regret and pride. 

“That...couldn’t’ve been...”

The two locked eyes again, before Aziraphale turned away, sighing wistfully.

“...Our first hug.” 

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Nooo! Really?” Aziraphale’s smile grew. “You’re joking.” The angel gave a grin so wide he was practically beaming. Crowley could feel the warmth radiate off of him, like rays of sun. His cheeks started to hurt. The two sputtered into a burst of laughter. Crowley let his body shake and his lungs hurt, he didn’t care, the image was just too  _ stupid. _ A 6000 year old relationship and their first hug had been an accident, a quick emotional outburst, and Crowley had been drenched head-to-toe in mud. Aziraphale’s giggle rang like a bell in Crowley’s ears. 

“Thas’ just horrible,” Crowley snickered. “We couldn’t even do  _ that _ right!” The angel placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, trying to steady himself so he could speak. 

“Dear, it had been perfect,” Aziraphale said. Crowley’s heart buzzed to life with warmth, and his cheeks flushed with pride...and a whole lot of embarrassment. 

“Oi  _ vey,” _ Crowley gave a slight bat to the angel’s chest. “You sap!” 

“It’s true!” Aziraphale smirked. “If I hadn’t been so...overcome with anxiety and shock...” The two shared a look again, knowing Archangel Gabriel definitely wouldn’t have agreed with them that day. “...I would’ve probably stayed longer.” Crowley couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of the two of them lying in the mud, basking under the sun, as Crowley laughed his head off. 

“I would’ve  _ for sure _ ruined your clothes by then,” the demon said, playing with Aziraphale’s bow tie. The angel gave a huff. 

“I...wouldn’t mind it, now, you know,” Aziraphale looked down. Crowley thought he had alcoholically hallucinated that sentence. 

_ Did he just...invite me to..? _

“I’d like to think I’ve grown a tiny bit past that,” the angel said. Crowley sputtered into more laughter. “What?”

The demon let out a cackle. “D’ya know what you just said?” It was Aziraphale’s turn to blush. 

“I...I stood up to the entirety of  _ Hell-“ _

“No no,  _ before _ that!” 

“I wouldn’t...” The angel cut himself off. “Oh.” Crowley laughed some more. Aziraphale gave a large, very ashamed smile. “Walked right int’ that one.” Crowley met the angel’s eyes, and held up his hands and wiggled his fingers menacingly, before wrapping the angel into a tight hug. Aziraphale let out a squeak of adorable surprise. The two laughed into each other, and Crowley buried his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. They both let out a sigh. 

“It’s true,” Aziraphale wrapped his hands around Crowley and drew him close. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.” He lifted Crowley’s head and trailed his chin with his soft finger. “Did...did telling me help?” Crowley gave a sniff and nodded. Aziraphale smiled. “Good. I’m very proud of you, then.” Crowley’s chest somersaulted, and his head returned to the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale tussled the demon’s hair. “You deserve to splash in all the puddles you want.” Crowley smiled. He knew Aziraphale could feel it, for he smiled too.

The weather pertaining the next day had been balmy and rainy, never too cold and just a degree too hot. Crowley, in a much more quiet area of St. James park, had kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants and jumped into the rain puddles, pushing away any care he could have about whoever was watching. 

He took Aziraphale’s hand, and the two gave a leap, and then a splash, both smiling and soaking wet.

Crowley, despite the water and shifting dirt and silt under his feet, felt perfectly steady to his place in the universe. 

It felt wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @AmberDiceless for their kindness and patience and help on this fic. 
> 
> (3921 BCE is in reference to my fic “A Discovery.” I accidentally made it the basis for like...a series at this point. Oops. Hope y’all aren’t sick of muddy Crowley).  
> Well, this took longer than I thought it would. I was dealing with some family stuff so I used this to escape to something else. I’m honestly quite proud of it. I wanted to share my personal take on Crowley’s Fall and how it affected him.


End file.
